The Key West Citizen Newspaper, March 4, 1953, Page 14

Page 14 THE KEY WEST CITIZEN Wednesday, March 4, 1953 FLASH GORDON THAT TRUTH SERUM LOOSENED THIS JOKER’ TONGUE! SO HE Cav 'S EZ HEN THAT TME- CASE HAS ‘SHOW _UP FOR LOOK LIKE IT'S COMING BACK! CAN’T ONE OCF THE OTHER BOYS WATCH MERE OUT OF THE PAST? ITS GOOD To BE BACK Jt Jew IN THE PEACEFUL ~ JUNGLE AGAIN=~2. 0% HMM-1 SPOKE 100 SOON LISTEN TO LOTHAR--I'MA TAYING TO REACH YOU--ARE YOU \ MUCH OW SPONSE AZEATS Se N SOUNDS ANNOYED ABOUT IOMETHING. LETS GO OVER AND HAVE A LOOK. 4 Pig hg T’MWORBIED ABOUT--Shh--/ [A —_ alk and Wilson McCoy By Lee Falk and Phil Davis Ano mites AWAY, AT THE JUNGLE WITCH’S PALACE, MANDRAKE BECOMES ONE OF THE “LIVING-DEADY A STRAIN RVES TO CREATING BREAK, MONSIEUR-- ZEE GREAT PLASTEUR STRETCH ZEE LEGS-- 1 KNOW.’ He'S PARKED) N FRONTOF MRS. Ww S / TLL PHONE HER TO GO OUT AND TELL WM THar T car RR-MEAD 8 ASKIN FER OEABKE) IF YE CRAVE TO STRETCH YORE LAIGS, E CAN PLOW OF PARIS IS GOING To/ YE ret cee tect TH HIGH FIELD 1! I AM, BUSTER.,.AND HAVE A NICE TRIP, PAL! SHE AIN'T, BUT WHAT I HEAR MAKES ME KINDA SICK T'THE STOMACH! By Fred Lasswell AHH, WELL! BACK TO ZEE MASTERPIECE !! By George McManus UM-- 7 CROSS \ (wneaary a | by A. de T. Gingras (TWENTY EIGHT SCIENCE + FICTION NOVELS by H. G. Wells, published by the Dover Publishing | Co., New York City, 915 pages.) The title of this collection of the great English novelist’s stories, is | misleading as to the size and cut of the contents, Only four of the yarts could be considered novels or even novel- ettes, as the definitions are gener- ally accepted. The other two dozen tales are average short story length, ranging from eight to twen- ty six pages. But there is nothing misleading about the quality of what is be- tween the covers! H. G. Wells re- mains a top performer as well as a pioneer in the science fiction field. He has the very necessary skill of making the implausible and unbelieveable, plausible and be- lieveable. Sone writers turning out science fiction today may pull out of their imagination more startling con- coctions. But they are often badly digested. They come out on the page lumpy and obviously unas- similated by the author himself, and therefore never quite accepted by the reader. But Mr. Wells is almost always convincing. The reader at least for the time he is reading the story, believes the tale, whether it be a- bout a country on the Amazon riv- er where the ants have taken over, or a strange orchid with vampire prolivities, who strongles and sucks the blood from human be- ings. When an astronomer in a Bur- mese observatory tangles with a giant bird, and when an orcheolog- ist gets stranded on a desert island with another giant bird hatched from a fossil egg dug up from a pit after thousands of years, the reader goes right along to the last sentence with Mr. Wells. Part of this plausibility seens to be arrived at by surrounding the startling central core of the story with very usual and careful des- criptive details. When an anarchist attempts to poison the city’s water supply, he goes into the usual laboratory in the average home of a doctor. All the appoint- ments and decor of the story.are very every day, even to the shoes and coat which the very average physician Yorgets to put on when he chases the villain. Mr. Wells has other qualities which help to make him one of the top English novelists of the first part of the century. There is a deli- cate poetic quality in some of hi stories. One of the collection, “Country of the Blind”, is a strange and penetratingly beauti. ful story, which is likely to make a lasting impression on any read- er. An explorer is thrust over a mountain: by a falling avalanche of snow.‘He ‘finds himself in a val- ley where a disintegrating eye dis- ease has: made all the inhabitants blind for several generations. What happens to these people as their senses of touch and hearing be- come exceedingly keen with their loss of sight, is a new experience for the reader. And the author’s conclusion is equally unforgettable, when the hero makes his decision between the love of a blind woman and his own sight. Any science fiction fan who is not yet acquainted with this im- portant and very skilled experi- menter in the sield, might well add this book to his library. JUNIOR SELECTION (THE ADVENTURES OF AM: | BROSE by Rosemary Ann Sis; son, published by E. P. Dutton | publishing company, New York City, 118 pages.) Here is an interesting mouse- hole view of Buckingham Pal- ace The story begins by saying Shangla-La means plenty of cheese and no cats to an English mouse named Ambrose. So that lis what he calls his bachelor quarters in a cardboard box in the pantry of a country house/ outside London. | Then one day some callous hu- jman throws the cardboard box; jimto the dustbin. That upheaval and the adventuresome spring wind encourages Ambrose to see the world Accompanied by his friend, Si- mon, the field mouse, Ambrose starts out on a journey to the | English capital to see the, King. lIncidentally, he also wants to see his Great Aunt Harriet, who Gunfighter’s Return by Leslie Ernenwein Chapter Eleven T= hot glare.of noon's shadow- less, sunli was on Main Street when Jim Rimbaud came | out of the Alhambra Hotel: He had slept the clock around, yet he didn’t feel rested. He had downed two cups of black coffee in the dining room but still felt sluggish and depressed. Even the cigarette he smoked didn’t taste right. “Too much bourbon last night,” Rimbaud reflected moodily. But he knew it was more than that. This wasn’t an ordinary hangover caused by indulgence after long abstinence. It was spawned by a bleak sense of futil- ity and frustration. He had come to Junction with the most peace- ful intentions a man could have, wanting food and rest and another look at Eve Odegarde. But he had been challenged at everyiturn, Re- solved to quit the gun game, he had been obliged to take on the sorriest chore in the book—protec- tion of a homestead against big- outfit invasion. And Eve Odeg: was engaged to the man he was obligated to. It seemed as if the aoe deck was stacked against im. Rimbaud discarded the cigarette and gave Main Street a squint- eyed appraisal. The town had Em looked good to him when he rode in last night. A moonlit oasis. But now Junction’s warped planks and dilapidated buildings stood re- vealed in all their harsh reality. Sheriff Sol Robillarde came out of the Shanghai Café and stood there prying at his teeth with a toothpick while Rimbaud walked up to him. “Good morning,” Robil- larde greeted in a blandly imper- sonal voice, “What's this I hear about you riding for Sam Mai- ing ben?” “You heard right,” Rimbaud said. “But the man is a fugitive from | da: justice,” Robillarde insisted. “A passes on Maiben's property wil do so at his own risk sass “You're just asking for trouble,” Robillarde warned again. “Just asking for it.” “Sure,” Rimbaud peered, “like I asked Ernie Link to take a pot a at me from the Shiloh’s back loor.” Then he went on to the stable to have his horse saddled. Joe Gab- bert came out of the harness room, tousle-haired and yawning. “A night,” the liveryman reflected. “You leavin’ so soon?” Rimbaud nodded, handed him a silver dollar, and asked, “Which is the best way to Sam Maiben’s place?” E “So them rumors is true,” Gab- bert said. “Well Sam couldn't have a better man sidin’ him by grab. You got Lew Stromberg eatin’ out of your hand. Never saw the beat of it the way you bluffed Lew down last night.” “I wasn’t bluffing,” Rimbaud’ said. “How about some direc- tions?” “Well the Spanish Strip road forks off to the north a mile be- on it till you top Big Mesa chy left on a trail that drops off into brace Canyon, cross the creek, and climb Jigsaw Divide. Maiben’s place is off to the north about five crow-flight miles from the divide. The wagon road winds around from Big Mesa and branches oif at Isabelle’s Camp. But it’s a good piece farther that way.” “Thanks,” Rimbaud said and rode out. The Roman Four crew would be on the hunt for Maiben again to- day, he supposed. At least the headquarters crew, which, accord- to Limpy Smith, consisted of five men, others, who held down a line camp in the Potholes, probably hadn’t in on yester- y’s man hunt. But there was another Roman Four man unac- wanted cow thief. Why get mixed up with him?” “My business,” Rimbaud said. “I'm warning you that any in- terference with the capture of Maiben will not be tolerated.” Rimbaud laughed at him. He asked, “Would that be a threat or a warning, Sol?” “A warning. My political future May depend on what takes place in the next few days. I want no more trouble for the newspapers to puff up into headlines, Don’t want it,and won't stand for it.” “So?” Rimbaud mused. “Well, now I'll tell you something, Sol. counted for in town last night—a fellow Limpy called Booger Bill. “Big as a Percheron stud,” Smith had described him, “and a trifie loco in the noggin.’ The smoky years had taught Jim Rimbaud the value of vigilance on the trail so that now, observing that distant dust plume had van- unseen rider, he decided, had halted somewhere south of the road on a brush-blotched rid, that bulged the long slope. His presence up ti might not mean a thing. But from now on, day or night, the threat of am- bush would be a nagging com- panion, and wariness would be nis only shielti. He crossed the slope some three mules north of the ridge, and pe re-entering the Spanish trip road, followed it to the broad crest of Big Mesa. Here he halted, scanning his backtrial and giving the roundabout terrain a questing attention. No risen dust showed anyw! and no sound disturbed the windless, sun-warmed air. When he turned into a westward trail he noticed two sets of horse tracks—one set headed toward the road, and another set angling away from it. Keeping to one side of the tracks, he observed a simi- larity in the hoof-prints, as if they might have been made by the same horse, But the tracks were five or six hours old, he judged, and so disregarded them as his horse eased down 4 narrow, steep- tilted trail into Embrace Canyon, Presently, as the roan drank from a pool in a boulder-strewn creek at the canyon’s bottom, Rim- baud had an overwhelming urge to take a swim. This was more water than he had seen in months. Not-enough to swim in, really; but a man could splash around it and get himself wet all over. Rimbaud scanned the towering wall of Jigsaw Divide, which rose high above the canyon. This might be one of the places Roman Four would watch in the hunt for Sam Maiben. But he detected no sign or sound of movement anywhere on the divide, and water was hugely tempting. ‘ “I'll risk it,” Rimbaud decided with a gambler's fatalism. tag, § the roan to a clump of brush, he took off his clothes and eased into the pool. This was bet- ter than any barbershop bathtub. It reminded him of his boydood in Texas; how he used to ride ten dusty heat-hammered miles. for the boyish pleasure of taking belly-splashers in.a muddy river. There been no other boys to share the fun, but he had whooped and hollered, making believe that he was accompanied by rollicking companions. He recalled the fine feeling of the water against his flesh when he first jumped in, and how his father had poked fun at him, warning that he'd grow up web-footed. A long, long time | ago... Rimbaud was splashing around and thoroughly enjoying himself when a voice called, “Is that you, Sam?” A woman's voice. (Te be continued} i lives in a mousehole in Bucking- ham Palace. The journey into London, and} meetings with a toad, a frog and! a pigeon, to say nothing of an almost disastrous encounter with a mouse-eating owl, takes up half the book. The remainder is all about mouse life in Bucking- ham Palace, where Great Aunt Harriet does her marketing in the king's pantry, and a mouse can look at a king. kind of imagination necessary to get down gracefully and poeti- cally into mouseholds, and to give human qualities to her ani- mal figures- NEGRO DOCTORS ARE ACCEPTED IN ARK. LITTLE ROCK, Ark. @ — The Pulaski County (Little Rock) Med- ical Society broke precedent Mon. night by electing four Negro doc- tors to membership. | without discussion were Doctors |. B. White, J. M. Robinson, G. W. S. Ish and Hugh Browne. Dr. Raymond C. Cook, society president, said the four—-who did not attend the meeting “met all professional quaitriestions and were thoroughly investigated by our credentials committee.” Dr. White said that, through the society’s action, “Arkansas has gone a step forward io race rela- tions.” The author nas the special! Elected by acclamation and! Subscribe to The Citizen THE CONSTANT GANDER. — goose and cremated it in the For seven long years, Aleck the drum while Aleck watched sadly, And he hastl tet Gander has not wandered more than 10 feet from the oil drum at which he gazes at Waco, Texas. There's @ reason. A goose and a gander mate for life, and while crossing a street with his goose-mate seven years ago, Aleck lost her to a hit-run driver. Their owner, W. Tell Haye, 37. picked up the crushed body of the he @ drum out of his sight from that day to this When the drum is moved, Aleck goes right al mg with it—<#}) Wirephots.